


Tumblr stuff

by katiebuttercup



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-02-28 22:55:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13281609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiebuttercup/pseuds/katiebuttercup
Summary: Things I’ve written on tumblr





	1. Scent of a woman

Molly frowns in the process of setting her test tubes into the holders as Sherlock sniffs the air around her.

She tells herself she’s less self conscious around Sherlock now but still a blush rises to her cheeks. She’d bought the perfume yesterday as a treat, entranced by the pretty bottle and enraptured by the sweet scent, she couldn’t leave it in the store. 

But Sherlock would undoubtedly have an opinion because he had an opinion about everything.

“I bought a new perfume,”

Sherlock leans in, inhaling deeply just behind her ears where she had sprayed that morning, his deep baritone voice sending chills down her spine.

“I like it,” he confesses. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, her higher cognitive ability shot as he laced their fingers together and presses his nose to her pulse point, a deep satisfied look on his face when he finds the scent there too. 

“Anywhere else I should look?”


	2. Karaoke

Post tld pre the final problem 

 

“This is ridiculous,” Sherlock mutters as he follows John through the mass of bodies pressed against each other. Apparantly Friday night karaoke was quite popular. 

“We’re here to support Molly,” John says in a firm unflinching tone that brooks no argument.

Sherlock lets out a sullen sigh, leaning on the bar as John orders for them. At least there’s alcohol to help numb what will no doubt be an incredibly tedious night. 

“Can Molly even sing?” Sherlock asks caustically, annoyed at nothing and everything. “She’s never exhibited any musical talent-“

The look John levels at him makes the rest of his sentence die in the back of this throat. 

“We owe Molly,” John says carefully, “she’s the only reason either of us are standing here right now and you know it. So shut up and drink your pint and clap after Molly’s done,” 

Sherlock sighs again but obediently claps as Molly climbs on the stage. She’s remarkably calm on stage, so it’s not her first time. Sherlock notes that the applause in the pub is more enthusiastic than others who had sung before her. When she takes the microphone she riffs with the audience, arkward and engaging.

And then she sings.

Her voice is pure and lilting, she only misses a couple of notes. She’s far from professional but her standard is very, very good. 

Sherlock realises his jaw has dropped and quickly closes it. John is looking at Molly, he’s less surprised, but there’s an indulgent, sweet look on his best friends face. He looks at least more at ease than Sherlock’s seen since Mary’s death.

Molly avoids both pop songs and love songs, much to Sherlock’s surprise. He feels as if a layer has been peeled away. Molly continually surprising him. It shouldn’t blindside him anymore but it does.

One day he’ll have a full picture of Molly hooper. 

Her voice hits something inside of him, his innate musicality reacting to Molly’s talent. He’s   
Mesmerised.

Molly finishes her set, Sherlock claps more enthusiastically this time and then while Molly is taking her bows he heads outside for a smoke, feeling overwhelmed. 

Outside, in the big, wide open he feels clearer. He can still hear the echo of Molly’s voice in his head; he’ll be analysing every note when he gets home.

She’s so… 

Every time he thinks he has figured Molly out, put her in her plain, boring box she finds a way to break free.

God dam her. 

He puts the cigarette out on the wall and tosses the butt into the bin. John’s speech on his birthday haunts him, makes him want things he can’t put into words. 

Things he dares not put into words. 

“Hey,”

Sherlock turns, Molly is wrapped in her coat, obviously heading home.

“Hey,” Sherlock echoes because he can’t think of anything else to say.

“So you sing?” 

“I sing” Molly agrees.

“You didn’t say-I didn’t know-“

Molly’s smile is a little sad, “there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sherlock,” 

She raises herself up onto her tiptoes and kisses him on the cheek. 

“Good night, Sherlock, thanks for coming,” 

And while he’s still trying to catch his breath she walks away. Sherlock watches her and wonders what else he doesn’t know


	3. Cheating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom cheats on Molly and sherlock has a choice to make

NB I don’t think That Tom would have cheated but it’s for fanfic purposes 

“Hey-are you okay?” John asks taking in the silent figure of his best friend, fingers steepled beneath his chin, blue eyes fixed upon something John could not see. 

“It is customary to tell a friend when they are making a mistake,” Sherlock says slowly. John sits in his chair, dread curling in his stomach.

“Sherlock…”

“And Molly is my friend…after a fashion.”

“Sherlock,” John repeats cautiously, “what are you saying?”

Sherlock unlocks his fingers, reaches down into his pocket and throws a mobile at john who catches it clumsily. 

The doctor turns it over in his hands, it’s an iPhone, generic enough but it’s not Sherlock’s or Molly’s.

“Who’s phone is it?” John asks, the feeling of dread intensifies.

“Tom’s” 

“Why do you have Tom’s mobile?”

Sherlock takes a deep breath, his tone is cold, evaluative, he sounds exactly like he did when john first met him.

“A young lady came to me, upset, thought her boyfriend was cheating. He was, had a long time girlfriend,”

Sherlock’s gaze burned into John’s. 

“A fiancé”

It hits John like a punch to the stomach.

“Tom?!”

Sherlock nods, “look at the phone,” 

John obeys, the lock screen already open he scrolls through texts with a female that’s definitely not Molly. They aren’t explicit but obviously intimate.

Crap.

John throws the phone back to sherlock as if it burnt his hand, Sherlock calmly replaces the device back into his pocket.

“What are you going to do?” John asks when the shock recedes enough for coherent speech.

“Are we telling Molly—of course we’re telling her. God what am I going to say?” 

Sherlock breaks into John’s chaotic thoughts “I’m the one who’ll tell Molly”

“No!” John says emphatically, “no I know you think that everyone should place logic above emotions but this is Molly you can’t go to her and tell her her fiancé is cheating”

“Why not?”  
“Because you’ll say it like that, Like you lay out a case for Greg. This Molly’s life we’re talking about”

“I know that!” Sherlock snarls, “it’s not my fault she’s decided to continue this ridiculous farce but now I’m the one who has to tell her again that her hopes are misplaced.” 

“I know no ones ever told you this but not everything is about you! However much you hate this I guarantee it’s worse for Molly. The least you could do is pretend to give a damn!”

“I do!”

“Really because you’re doing a great impression of making Molly’s heartbreak all about you and god forbid you care about someone else and their problems It’s such a burden to you”

“Of course I care!” Sherlock snaps. “You think I like the idea of Molly marrying that fool? You think any man wants to watch the woman they love marry someone else? Or worse be the bearer of this kind of news?”

“You love Molly?”

“Is that really the most pertinent question John?” 

“Yes it is,”

“And I have to break her heart,” Sherlock is quieter now, pensive.

“Maybe it won’t be so bad, maybe you and Molly..”

“Yes John I’m sure Molly will take the news of his betrayal very well and then throw herself into my arms because that is the kind of person molly is. Just jump from one bed to the next without a backwards glance,” Sherlock bites out.

John breathes out through this nose. “I didn’t mean right away but when the dust has settled,”

“I doubt very much Molly will want anything to do with me. I’m sure it’ll be another example of me ruining whatever little happiness she has left,” 

“Molly won’t blame you for this,” John counsels. Sherlock makes a humming noise at the back of his throat. A moment later his mobile pings an alert. In one smooth motion Sherlock is on his feet.

“It’s Molly, lets get this over with,” 

Numb with disbelief john follows.


	4. Unmatching soulmarks

Molly expects it of course, she’s known from the beginning that Sherlock has a soulmate mark and she does not. 

It’s something she’s learned to live with-in a world that pairs everyone, she, as ever, is left behind. 

And just because she was destined to have no soulmate it didn’t stop her loving.

And it hadn’t mattered in the beginning, post Sherrinford, caught in the maelstrom of emotions she had believed their love would survive.

But Sherlock’s soul mark had ripped apart what Eurus had thrown together. She’d known it of course, the awakening of a bond was hardly subtle, though Sherlock had attempted to hide it from her.

Molly takes a fortifying sip of tea. In the exact spot a year ago Sherlock had ripped her to shreds and then helped rebuild her. 

It’s fitting then that this should be the end of them. 

She’s a little surprised if she’s honest, that Sherlock is going to do the right thing by her, tell her that it’s over face to face rather than just letting her hang.

She braces herself as Sherlock comes to stand opposite her, the island braced between them.

“You met her then?” Molly asks, she directs her question to his shirt unable to look him in the face. 

It’s not even his fault.

It was nature. He was as helpless in the face of it as she was. 

“Yes,”

Molly takes a breath, lets it out.

“Are you…I mean I…you’ll want your stuff I suppose. You can just box up whatever I have at Baker Street I’m sure John’ll bring it round for me—“

“Molly-“

She realises that she’s rambling but the reality of losing Sherlock is crushing her. She wants to be brave, she wants to do the right thing but it hurts more than she can bear. 

She wants to ask if his soulmate is prettier then her, smarter. It’s a safe bet that if the universe found fit to give Sherlock Holmes a soulmate she would be nothing less then extraordinary. 

And Molly Hooper was very ordinary.

“Molly stop,” he’s round the counter and clutching at her hands, although there is a note of command in his voice.

“Molly I went to see—“ she holds her breath, wondering if knowing the name of the woman Sherlock is destined to love will make it better or worse. 

“I love you,” Sherlock says. “I want to be with you,”

Molly blinks stupefied. The soulmate connection was supposed to be destined. The perfect fit, how could sherlock want anything less.

“Molly..I meant it when I said you could see me. I don’t think you understand just how important that is to me. Your friendship had sustained me through things I…I don’t…can’t talk about.”

“I’ll always be your friend,” Molly says soothingly.

Sherlock presses his forehead to hers breathing deeply. 

“I don’t want your friendship Molly, not when I know what it feels like to be loved by you,”

“No one’s ever gone against a soulbond,” Molly tries.

“You’d be surprised, it doesn’t make headlines but people do. I believe in making my own fate. With you.”

It’s too much. Molly struggles to form a coherent argument but her heart is singing and it’s difficult to scrape together a counter argument. Her heart quite literally isn’t in it.

“So what do we do?”

Sherlock breathes out heavily, it sounds like relief.   
“Love me,” 

Molly’s answer is a kiss.

NB: hey look I wrote an angsty thing and it turned out happy. Go me


	5. Scruff (nsfw)

Sherlock curves his mouth into a smirk as Molly squirms against the roughness of his beard against the smoothness of her thighs. 

He had to remember not to shave much more often.

Sherlock trails haphazard kisses up her thigh, until he reaches his goal. Molly squirms deliciously against him as he draws his tongue along the seam of her lips sliding his tongue inside her with a practiced skill that he’d enjoyed perfecting. 

Molly’s breath comes in shuddering pants as he stiffened his tongue in just the right way and then sliding over her clit with firm strokes. He made sure that his beard rubbed just the right way over her folds, adding to the sensations that would tip her over the edge.

Her fingers intertwined with his curls just bordering on painful, a counterpoint to his ministrations against her clit. 

She comes with a high pitched sigh, body arching into his mouth overstimulated but unable to let him go. 

Sherlock sweeps his hands over her thighs, pressing kisses along her thighs and hip bones, alternating between quick kisses and longer nuzzling, loving the feel of her satin skin against his grizzled cheek.


	6. Morning person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock’s a morning person but Molly is not j

Sherlock is unbearably smug. If Molly had the energy she would punch him but it’s all she can do to keep her eyes open.

The coffee helps. Mostly.

Sherlock has his uses. Sherlock smirks down at her as she inhales her coffee trying to banish the sleepiness from her brain. It’s not fair that the reason she’s so sleepy is apparently unaffected.

The universe is bitterly unfair. Sherlock reaches for her coffee cup but Molly stubbornly keeps hold of it. She doesn’t share her first cup of coffee with anyone.

Not even Sherlock.

His unbearable smirk widens, crinkling the skin beneath his eyes. Molly takes a long draught of coffee in spite. It’s difficult to keep her scowl when Sherlock is naked and tucks her against his chest.

Not only is he the worst kind of morning person he’s also uncharacteristically tender. Trust her to be too sleepy and grumpy to enjoy it.

Molly snuggles against him, cacooning herself into the sheets, maybe she can go back to sleep for another ten minutes. Her attempts were thrawted by Sherlock gently pinching her elbow. “Ah ah!” Sherlock says, “it’s time to get up”

“You don’t even have to get up!” Molly complains. “You don’t have a case”

“No but you do have work—“ Sherlock counters.

Molly groans and Sherlock chuckles, a deep reverberating sound that shudders through his chest to her ear.

He’s right. She hates him but hes right. Molly levers herself up and throws the covers back. If she has to get up she has to do it in one move before she can talk herself out of it.

“You don’t have to rush,” Sherlock complains as he watches her collect clothes.

“You woke me up,” Molly challenges.

Sherlock shrugs, “yeah, for morning sex,”

Molly blushes, she’d mentioned months back that morning sex was her favourite kind of sex-the one thing that was sure to wake her in a good mood.

She hadnt thought that Sherlock would remember that.

“You woke me up!” Molly points her finger, “no morning sex”

Sherlock pouts. He checks his phone as Molly closes the door to the bathroom and then counts silently

One

Two

“You bastard. It’s Sunday!” Sherlock’s full bodied laughter is cut off when Molly chucks her clothes in his face.

It doesn’t stop when he pushes them away to see her annoyed face. He affects a semi contrite face-the best he can do. It’s super rare that he could trick Molly.

Molly clambers back into bed, folding herself into a cacoon. Sherlock frowns.

“What are you doing?” Molly sits up and places a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Going back to sleep,” she says triumphantly.

“Good luck with that!” She inclines her head to his lap. She flounces back, snuggling into her pillow as Sherlock grumbles.

That’ll teach him to be a morning person


	7. Oxford (unilock)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unilock

Molly comes to oxford, she’s there on scholarship, single parent and every day someone looks down their noses at her, at her charity shop clothes and notepads that aren’t initialised in gold, and how she plans meals weeks in advance. Molly who is so desperate to graduate and fulfill her dreams of pathology, whose single mindedness often isolates her  
And then there’s Sherlock, who comes from a loving, quite well off home who is throwing away his college education for drug binges because he’s bored, who doesn’t care because Mycroft is there to pick up after his brother make the right excuses and finally Molly has enough 

NB: Eurus isn’t the dirty family secret and is as normal as a holmes can be 

Molly’s pretty certain she’s never been this angry in her life, it’s almost a physical ache in her bones.

She breathes in and out several times, but it doesn’t help. Mary and John stand at the sidelines quietly stewing in their own anger.

And Sherlock smiles, smiles like it’s all a big joke. Maybe it is, maybe getting thrown out of school is just an inconvenience and he’d just waiting till he can go full time as a drug addict. 

The fact that he’s burned through half a dozen “last chances” makes Molly even madder. 

“If you’ve quite finished being hysterical I’m gonna go sleep off my high,” Sherlock says and he sounds so bored, so above the obvious distress of his friends and Mycroft and Eurus. Sherlock locks eyes with his siblings, Mycroft looks pained but resolved, Eurus glares. 

There’s a resounding slapping sound and then Molly’s palm stings. She looks at it with horror. 

She slapped Sherlock. 

Sherlock’s face remains turned to the side, he strokes his cheek softly, cracking his jaw.

“Say you’re sorry!” Molly demands. She’s never heard her voice so cold before. 

“Sorry your boyfriend dumped you,” Sherlock snarls in response, venom dripping from every word,

“Finally figured he wouldn’t get anywhere with a frigid bitch like you-“

“Stop it just stop it!” Mollys eyes widen as Mycroft takes hold of his brother and shakes him forcefully.

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that!”

Molly is impressed. She didn’t think Mycroft liked her enough to defend her, but they were an odd group of friends. The land of misfit toys, Mary called them. 

Surrounded by his brother and best friend, Sherlock falls into a sullen silence, but not cowed. Beneath greasy curls he glowers at her and she glares right back. 

“Sherlock’s very sorry he said that,” Mycroft is saying to Molly, 

“No I’m not-“ the rest of his sentence is cut off when John says through gritted teeth, “shut it!”  
Now that John and Mycroft have Sherlock under control the fight leaves Molly, she’s tired, being friends with Sherlock was like constantly being on a treadmill. 

“I should get back to work-I’ve still got a term paper to write,” Molly says to Mary and Eurus. 

“Yes, wouldn’t want to have too much fun, you might enjoy yourself for five minutes,” Sherlock sneers. 

Molly closes her eyes counts to ten. He’s high. He’s always mean when he’s high. He didn’t mean it. 

“I care about my school work,” Molly says, what she knows Sherlock can hear is ‘and you don’t’

“Why bother!” Sherlock exclaims, “you don’t have it in you to be a real doctor, must be the reason you chose pathology, im sure dead people will appreciate your pathetic attempts at conversation. You’ll end up in a Tesco any way,” 

Sherlock lets out a yowl as Mycroft twists his brother’s arm painfully. 

 

“I’m sorry Molly, you’ll get a full apology when he’s in his right mind. I promise,” Molly nods, numb as Mycroft frog marches Sherlock, who was still yelling obscenities into the hallway. 

‘Go work at Tesco’s” it’s s taunt she’s heard from other students but she hadn’t thought Sherlock was one of them. They’d worked together on papers before, in between drug binges when Sherlock bothered to apply himself. And of course his half assed attempts made everyone else seem like pre schoolers. 

Why would sherlock do this? When he was so gifted? When people loved him so much? It broke her heart.  
*  
“Well that was quite the show!” Mycroft says as he pushes his brother onto his bed. Sherlock simply sprawls inelegantly on the covers, his mouth a mutinous line. 

“Although I’m not quite sure that insulting Molly is the way to her heart,”

“I don’t care about Molly!” Sherlock snarls hatefully, “she’s just another goldfish, she wouldn’t know what to do with a brain if I gave her an instruction manual.”

Mycroft shoves Sherlock’s legs into the middle of the bed, none to gently. 

“She’s on course to graduate with a first at the top of her class and you are very close to not finishing at all,”

Sherlock shrugs, uncaring. 

“Id hate to inform mummy of this recent backslide..”

Sherlock glares at his brother, suddenly in full control, “you wouldn’t dare!”

Mycroft s face betrayed nothing, “after this debacle with Molly I’m sorely tempted!” Mycroft grabs the coverlet from under Sherlock and throws it over his brother. 

“Now I suggest you find another outlet for your crush on Molly before you lose her friendship for good,”

“I don’t have a crush on Molly!” Sherlock yells but Mycroft is already out of the door. He throws the pillow at the door in frustration.

NB: nothing against working in Tesco I just imagine posh ppl at Oxford would use it as an insult


	8. In the backseat of a car (inspired by artbylexie)

Check out the adorable post by artbylexie. Seriously you’ll melt 

Sherlock tilts his phone, making sure the glare of the screen is far enough away not to disturb Molly as she sleeps. 

Sherlock scrolls through his messages,sending one to John to let his best friend know he’ll be staying with Molly tonight.

The warm weight of her against him is more than welcome as the thrill of the case ebbs away.

He hadn’t been sure at first-taking Molly with him on the case, he was so used to John, and the seamless way they worked together and although it had been different Molly’s perspective sharpened his own methods he’d been hyper aware of her these last few days, and only partly because he was learning her rhythms as a partner on a case. 

His reluctance to let her come had more to do with a coffin in an otherwise empty room than with Molly’s capabilities. 

But the idea that something could happen to Molly made his stomach clench, his great mind stalling into buffering mode. 

But she’d been great, clever and insightful and more than once he’d paused in his deductions to watch her work, interact with people and just bask in the fact that he was hers.

That Molly’s heart had room for him after everything.

Sherlock rolls his eyes as Johns answering text flashes across his screen. It’s a wink. 

Sherlock looks away resting his chin on her hair, nuzzling into her softness in a way he couldn’t in public. 

Molly had been nothing but professional on the case, given nothing away of the siesmic shift they’d undergone. 

She’d simply been a partner, Doctor Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes. It had niggled at him constantly but he’d ignored it until the case was finished. 

Now he could just be Sherlock. 

The artificial lights of London throw Molly’s face into light and dark, highlighting the curve of her lips, the smoothness of her cheek, the edge of an ear. 

She’s wearing the hideous scarf from their crime solving day- he wonders if it’s purposeful or just that Molly likes her staples in her wardrobe. 

How far they’ve come.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his own mouth curved into a smile to match the one molly wears as she sleeps. 

Yes; it’s a good day.


End file.
